


If You Must

by RobberBaroness



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Caning, Cannibalism, F/M, Fallout Kink Meme, Maledom, Quickies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:31:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobberBaroness/pseuds/RobberBaroness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The White Gloves enjoy some good old-fashioned tribal discipline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Must

Marjorie had taken to life in the White Glove Society quite well, despite her initial doubts. In fact, it was safe to say she liked it better. No more dusty deserts ruining her clothes, no more face paint that itched in the heat, and no more improperly prepared food giving people stomach problems- she'd read textbooks about the human body since coming to the city, and been appalled that they'd ever let such a receptacle for disease into their mouths. Old traditions had died, and thank goodness for them.

Well, most old traditions had died. Poor silly Mortimer hadn't been able to adjust quite as easily as she had, and after his tantrum about human flesh being banned, he'd thrown another over their anti-sexual harassment policy. It had been a tradition for the leader of the tribe to chase down disobedient tribe women, bind them hand and foot, and teach them the meaning of respect. He had enjoyed it a bit too much, in Marjorie's opinion, and it would be entirely out of place in polite company.

She was reflecting on this one day while walking down the hotel halls, making sure everything was in order. The walls were clean, the floors were spotless, the rooms soundproof, and large male hands were there to grab her and pull her into an empty suite. That last part was not hotel policy.

"My prideful mate," came Mortimer's soft voice. "You can take a few moments from your schedule to respect your master."

"Really, Mortimer! What would the neighbors say?" Marjorie wriggled slightly as he pulled her hands behind her back. What could he possibly find to bind her, anyway- "Oh Mortimer, not the curtain cord! That's spun silk fiber! You'll ruin it!"

Mortimer sighed and pulled off his belt instead.

"Leather binding, then. It is more traditional."

Marjorie knew she really couldn't spare the time for this nonsense, but she felt sorry for her partner. He'd had such a hard time adjusting to civilized life- perhaps it wouldn't hurt to indulge him. And it wasn't as if she'd ever objected to the ritual herself...

"Oh very well, Mortimer. If you must."

Mortimer pulled her hands behind her and fastened them tightly. Marjorie squirmed out of habit- she'd permitted it, but it always felt jarring not to be in control. She'd have to let the cleaning and planning wait for a moment while her primitive lover indulged himself. The idea felt surprisingly appealing.

Mortimer pulled her dress up above her waist, then pulled down her neatly pressed satin underwear. His hand rested on her bare ass, warm against her cool flesh, and she squirmed again. Damn him, he knew where she liked to be felt up, and would never let her forget it.

"Once for holding yourself above your mate!"

Mortimer's cane came down sharply across her ass and Marjorie squealed. It was a good thing Mortimer had insisted on making all the rooms soundproof- one of his better contributions to the hotel, in retrospect. Without such a feature, she could have been profoundly embarrassed.

"Twice for forgetting the old traditions!"

The second stroke came down, but Marjorie managed to hold her tongue. At least it was a cane rather than a dead tree branch, and would leave no scratches. She liked the feeling of the cane, sharp and cool and swift, and it felt good to know she was being disciplined with the best instruments money could buy.

"Thrice for the banning of human flesh!"

Oh, now he was just being silly. She wasn't going to change that rule, however much pleasure and discipline he offered her. In Marjorie's opinion, he was now just searching for ridiculous reasons to announce his cane strokes.

As it turned out, she was right. Her next mentioned crimes were stealing the blankets in bed, speaking shrilly when irritated with him, and finding masks an acceptable substitute for facepaint. He made up excuse after excuse to punish her until he finally reached ten strokes.

By then, Marjorie's ass had grown warm and tender (and red, she was sure.) Other tribal girls had hated their discipline, but she always took it like she should, and sometimes even looked forward to it. The gentle sensation of Mortimer's hand on her skin contrasted with the cruelty of his cane aroused her, even if it was rather foolish. 

"Perhaps you are satisfied now, and I can get back to my job?"

As an answer, Marjorie felt Mortimer's finger probe her cunt- she hadn't even realized how wet she was. Of course he wasn't finished.

"Please hurry, dear," she moaned. "You're driving me mad, and there's work to be done!"

As if in response, she felt Mortimer's cock push into her. Being bent over was a position Marjorie both loved and hated; the amount of sensation it brought on was at times too much, but she always found herself craving it. She knew Mortimer liked it as well, allowing his hands to hold her body as though he were riding a wild animal.

"Oh, you savage..." As Mortimer thrusted, Marjorie groaned, wriggling her hips to position his cock at a more comfortable angle. Damn him, she thought, damn him for making her want to forget all her rules and her work and just spend eternity in bed.

"Just the way you like it, my love!" Mortimer's voice was insufferably smug, as it always was when he was right. He slapped her ass again, the sting of his hand contrasting with the pleasure of sex. Marjorie bit down on her lip, trying not to shout; even in soundproof rooms, it was still undignified.

She couldn't hold it in forever, though.

"You beast!" Marjorie came as she shouted, her body shaking and shuddering, her eyes beginning to tear and her skin horribly sweaty. She'd need a bath after all this was over, another thing she didn't have time for. Mortimer wasn't done, though, and it took several more thrusts before he gasped and finished with her.

Marjorie rolled onto the bed, catching her breath.

"Animal," she said, her tone gentler this time.

"Animal yourself. I've never known a woman to clench or buck like you, my darling."

Even Marjorie couldn't help smiling at that. She'd bathe in a few minutes, after she'd caught her breath. As much as she might protest, she was glad that Mortimer hadn't let all the old ways die.


End file.
